


A Step Off Centre

by CavannaRose



Series: Rose Wilson Fics [30]
Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Overwatch (Video Game), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: 2am Ideas, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Fights, Gen, I Apologize For This, Mild Language, Plot Bunnies - Freeform, excessive use of fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-08-23 15:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20245468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: Rose is on the trail of a new? old? metahuman organization. Someone wants to keep an eye on her, and stop her from finding out the truth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My brain spent last night with a what if scenario, so with help from a friend I am gonna see where it takes me.

Rose shrugged out of her jacket, letting the heat of the early morning sun hit her tired body. Maybe if she got enough sunshine she’d wake up a bit, it had always seemed to work for Kori. She’d taken the redeye in to Geneva, and that was the last time she was riding Icelandair. What a damn joke. Then there had been a minor disagreement at the rental place, but eventually she had manage to get a bike to make her way up country. These people needed to understand that a moped was not a motorcycle. Fucking hell. Two hours on the road with dawn at her back did not make for a particular bright-eyed, nor pleasantly tempered, Wilson. Tossing the jacket over the seat of the bike, she stepped out into the ruins, eye sharp for details.

She’d been on the trail for weeks, picking up a bit of buzz from one of her higher class contacts. Secret government teams of metahumans seemed to be cropping up every other week, but if the stories were true, this one had been around for quite some time, spreading out on an international level. She snorted, disgusted. At least most government psycho squads had the decency to stay within their own country’s borders. The hardest part about following these leads was that no one seemed entirely certain what the group’s name was. Overwatch? Blackwatch? Talon? Some stories said that there were multiple groups, all tangled up into some kind of supremacy war. It seemed unlikely to Rose, but it was just as unlikely as one group having three names. Whatever it was, she had managed to find stories about some big showdown happening at this location, and she was hoping to dig up some definitive details on this para-military metahuman group.

Passing through what used to be a doorway, Rose knelt in the remnants of the building, examining the discolouration on what remained standing of the wall. There were clear signs of a massive explosion, striations and burn marks travelling up the wall, but there were also other indicators of a massive combat. She traced a bullet hole in the cement support, measuring the width with her fingers. Someone out there was using either a very big gun, or else had very large bullets. Frowning, she moved further in, the shifting crunch of the pulverized building supports under her feet ensuring that there was no way to progress quietly. She caught something heavy with the edge of her foot, sending it clunking against another half-sunken wall.

Startled, she had one of her katana half drawn before she realized she was the only living person there. Rose knelt, lifting the dark metal item up, inspecting it carefully. It was a gun, though far worse for wear after the passage of time, and the explosion that had demolished this place. The design was unique, stacked double barrels on a stock that looked more like an oversized pistol than a shotgun handle. Brushing away some of the accumulated filth, she examined the lettering engraved on the side. BLK-001. Clearly someone, at some point, had cared for the weapon carefully. She checked the loaded cartridges, confirming that they were the right size to have left the damage in the other room. The weapon was one of the strangest she had ever seen, and she was tempted to take the last remaining bullet to see how it had made the damage output she had witnessed.

Instead she tucked it into her belt, feeling the heavy weight of the weapon settle against her hip. Whoever had wielded it would have had to be strong, she bet the fucker had a helluva kickback on it. Finding a likely spot, she began digging through the rubble, using her enhanced strength to shift large pieces of fallen ceiling. Methodically she worked a grid pattern, sticking close to where the unfallen walls stood, stark grey against the brilliant blue of the sky. The sun grew hotter overhead, and then began to travel down, when she finally found what she was looking for. Stairs into what would have been the basement of the building. If there was going to be any kind of information to be garnered here, that was where it would be.

There was very little light filtering through the hole she cleared, so Rose took out a small flashlight, glad for once that she had brought the damn thing. It was heavy, and made a half decent club in a pinch, but it was a real pain to lug around. Some of the steps were damaged beyond the ability to hold a person’s weight, and the journey down a level took way longer than she had hoped.

Once at the bottom, the damage was far less extensive. Some backwash damage around the base of the stairs, but general the halls seemed untouched. Picking the one to the left, Rose made her cautious way along the corridor. The first two rooms revealed very little. One was a lavatory, the other appeared to be some kind of training room. The third, however, was exactly what she was hoping for. Rows of filing cabinets, grungy with years worth of dust, lined the room, and in the center, quiet, a large server. She had neither the skills nor the equipment to get the server running, but she could tackle the physical files.

Breaking the lock on the first drawer with an offhanded show of strength, she flipped through the names inside. Adams, Adawe, Al-Farouk, Amari, Arrhenius, Athena… She picked that last one up, thinking she had heard that name. What she got was the details of a complex computer A.I. system that made her head ache. She would bet good money that Kuttler would commit murder to get his hands on details for something this sophisticated. With a shrug she set that file aside. Maybe she’d bring it with next time she went and saw him for work. A sound made her freeze, and her hand went to the hilt of her katana again. “Hello… Is there anyone there?”


	2. Chapter 2

Rose hadn't seen the eyes on her, so intent was she on searching for the source of the rumours she had heard, and so she missed the little birdie that flew off to tell tales to someone dark and distant. The little pigeon had been agitated, spooked by the interloper, but surprisingly silent in the tumbled ruins of twisted steel and broken concrete.

Smoke began to billow low through the room, obscuring what light there was and wrapping ever higher around Rose’s left leg until it broke off behind her. A robotic voice hissed out from behind her back suddenly, a figure having formed where the smoke once stood. “What reason do you have to desecrate old tombs like this one?”

Rose was moving before she knew why. Katana drawn and aimed directly at the masked figure that had appeared in front of her. The flashlight, an unfortunate casualty, fell to the floor with a loud clanging sound, rolling out of the way as it flickered out. She hadn’t gotten a good view of the source for the strange, mechanized voice, just a white mask, skull shaped maybe? Who did she know that was still rocking the villainy and skull motif. Black Mask didn’t cut it, what she had seen was white. Atomic Skull? Mr. Bones? Was Mr. Bones still alive? He’d probably be a geriatric by now. Great. With very little vision, she’d have to rely on her precognition, which shouldn’t be a problem since her pulse was pounding right about now.

“That’s some serious melodrama you got going for you, Skully. Top shelf Scooby-doo, bet it keeps all the meddling kids out of your hydrangeas. Doesn’t really impress me, though, so you’re going to have to step it up a notch. Who are you, what are you doing here, and what the ever-loving fuck is this place?” She wanted to really go off, to ask about the files, the people in them. Were they really out there somewhere? She bided her time though, waiting to see what the masked figure would do next. She tried to think if she knew any heroes that worked out this way. Ice maybe? Her father would have known for sure, and that made her angry.

She stepped backward, drawing her other katana. Once both were in her hands, she felt more comfortable. Whole. “I’m just here for info, Bonebag. You tell me what you know and we can both go home happy. Doesn’t have to be a game of who has more dramatic flair than whom.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.” The figure drew a gun from within his jacket, the size and shape reminiscent of the one she had picked up earlier. Yet it wasn’t aimed at her, but instead at the box of files she’d grabbed. Cursing inwardly, she could only watch as he pulled the trigger, the blast scattering the file and contents to useless pieces. Despite this overtly hostile action, the shadowy figure didn't appear to be threatening, simply curious. “I don’t care for this place anymore, but I’ll be damned if any of my work gets made futile by some pirate wannabe.”

Swearing out loud, Rose held her ground, unflinching. "I won't be intimidated by a discount rack Jack Skellington. I asked you some reasonable fucking questions, and I expect a fucking answer you piece of shit. Who are all these files on metahumans for? Who the fuck is collecting them like they were goddamned Pokémon cards, and more importantly, why hasn't anyone heard of this shit?" 

She was angry now, stalking closer to the man, monster, whatever. Close enough that she could see his mask clearly despite the darkness around them both. Whatever he was using to make that shadowy effect was good, it looked fucking freaky as shit up close, but she'd faced down scarier motherfuckers than this dipwad in a Hallowe'en costume. Her free hand settled on her hip, fingers dancing as she tried to decide whether to draw the gun or to pull her other sword. Gun versus sword fights could go all kinds of ass-backwards, but she also had no clue how his firearm worked, and didn't want to be grossly outmatched. 

"You say this fucking shit is your goddamned work? Who the fuck are you? Some kind of government spook? A supervillain dressed up like a Hot Topic employee who spent too much time watching the Scream movies as a child? You're missing out on a lot of fucking details here, you fucking unpainted sugar skull, and I'm running real fucking short on patience."

“A spook? At one time, maybe.” Rose was close enough to make out more of the man, close enough to see as he dispersed into a blackish cloud of smoke right before her eye, as unbelievable as that was. _Fuck. Shit. God fucking damnit._ She hadn’t really come up here looking for a fight, especially not one with a metahuman that could discorporate. A clawed gauntlet reformed, the fingers wrapped around her torso from behind. “This is all following you breaking into an obviously decommissioned, private facility. You ask for answers as if they’re your right, and haven’t so much as said please. You must really want to die, die, die.”

“Son of a fucking bitch.” Rose didn’t think, just reacted with all the speed and strength that her serum-enhanced blood could muster. Grasping the hilt of her katana with both hands she twisted into the torso and drove the blade straight out behind her, aiming for centre body mass. Finishing the twist on the other side of the blade she spun away, releasing the one blade completely and drawing another. Now her adrenaline was spiking, her precognition snapping into functionality _finally._ She moved away from the masked figure until her back hit the wall, her katana between them. He wouldn’t get the drop on her a second time, but she probably wouldn’t get the drop on him again either.

“It’s not breaking in if a place is decommissioned, asshole. It’s investigation. If you wanted to keep this shit secret you should have cleaned it up when you moved out. Possession is nine tenths of the law back where I come from. As for a death wish, have you looked in the mirror? I’m not the one dressed like I’m desperate to be Lady Death’s gigalo.”


	3. Chapter 3

Without skipping a beat, the masked figure slowly yanked Rose’s sword out of his gut, grunting. She watched incredulously as he tucked the blade inside his jacket, while a little more smoke than before escaped through the breach in his outfit. She hissed. That was her fucking sword. “Possession, right? Information, that’s what you want? Why? Who’re you whoring yourself out to that you’d come to Bumfuck Switzerland?” His voice grated against every nerve in her body. She hated that metallic sound, that hint of secrecy. Who needed to disguise their voice that badly? She entertained herself with the idea that he had to use a modulator because his real voice sounded like that aggravating comedian who voiced the parrot in Aladdin.

“Information. That’s correct. So glad you caught up with the conversation, skullface. It’s what I want, and the reasons are entirely my own. If I wanted you to know them, I would have told you already. I don’t, and I don’t need to sit in the sharing circle to get what I want, either. As to who I’m whoring myself out to?” She flashed him a dangerous smile, one that fell short of reaching the chill of her single, ice blue eye. “A professional never tells her secrets.”

She didn’t care about the implications that she was some kind of prostitute, she’d heard it all before. Dick had thought she cheapened herself, working for cash. Even Eddie hadn’t understood the thrill of the transaction. They were too busy trying to be heroes, with their wealthy backers and their team spirit to guide them and catch them when they were running low. Rose? She stood on her own feet, or not at all. That required cash, and she was fucking good at what she did. “Now give me my fucking sword back, and either spill the beans or fuck off, Nacho Libre.”

Rose struggled with the rage that bubbled up within her. Pushing it aside, she sardonically lifted an eyebrow, giving the figure another slow once over. "Interesting move, elephant man. I see why you wear the mask, if I was that ugly I'd wear a bag over my head to sleep just in case I walked past a mirror when I had to piss in the night." Usually in any given situation she was the one with the temper, but that clearly wasn't the case here. "If you are quite done throwing your little temper tantrum, you can either provide the information I require or kindly just fuck right off."

Then she made a very carefully dangerous move, and turned her back on him. With her already limited range of vision, she was used to keeping aware of her surroundings through her other senses, and her adrenaline was high enough that her precognition should warn her if he was going to do something that could seriously injure her, anything else, and she was confident she could take the man, he looked like he was dying of some nefarious disease. She moved back towards the filing cabinets, intent to return to her search if bone boy there wasn't going to be helpful.

One second. Two. Nearly a full minute passed in silence, when the shattered remains of Rose’s sword were thrown at the far left cabinet, embedding partially in the third drawer down. The mercenary didn't flinch, though the eyebrow over her one good eye lifted slightly. “The juiciest bits are in there, Snow White. Would hurt a _lot_ of good people if word got out to....unsavory types.” Ashy vapor swelled up and the man was suddenly behind her, a hand attempting to clench firm into her shoulder as he leaned over it. His mask was back in place, but he sounded the same regardless. “I assume that’s why you’re here, in the remains of an international peace keeping organization, right?”

Rose easily dodged the grasp at her shoulder, though she felt the very edge of his fingers graze the the metal scales. Fuck he was fast. She had been moving before she knew why, just a half bob and then a quarter turn step so that she was facing perpendicular to the masked figure, but he had almost had her. She gave him a lopsided smile, more sass than anything a smile should really convey. "Snow White had hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow. If you're gonna play the pop culture game, Sans, the least you could do is get your facts straight." She sidestepped once and then stepped behind his back, towards the cabinets he had marked. She stifled another flare of anger at the sight of her broken blade. A good katana wasn't easy to come by, these days. So many that claimed to be top quality where just cheap knockoffs. If she had to go all the way back to Japan for a properly forged Nihonto she was going to use that jerk's face mask for a new grill on her motorcycle.

She pulled open the drawer, running her fingers lightly across the files within, scanning the tabs with passive curiosity. There was a lot of information here, more than she would likely be able to process on her own. With a small frown she started considering which of her contacts she could trust to help with the data. Noah was out, though brilliant, the fucking Calculator could be bought and sold on a dime. He was definitely the unsavory element that metal mouth was worried about, or at least, he'd be willing to sell to that element. Tim? Nah. Drake had vanished after their last... whatever it had been. Just another wrinkled pillow in the morning. She wasn't mad, though. It was easier that way. Better.

She bit her lip. "In my experience, most supposed international peace keeping organizations are the unsavory elements that we all keep getting warned about. I have yet to encounter a single one I would trust further than I can spit." She hauled out the files, resting them on her hip before gesturing towards the exit. "Well, Skeletor? Are you going to help me out here, or do I have to put the pretty papers down so we can tango again?"


	4. Chapter 4

“If only you’d ask nicely...” The man’s voice was light, amused. Then he attempted to strike her, a quick twirl of his left gauntlet though the attack was terribly leading. Rose dodged the gauntlet, shoulders tensed waiting for the follow up. The figure backed up, putting distance between them before putting up two guns similar to the one she had found. They were pointed right at her, and that was starting to piss her off. 

A dark little chuckle escaped the mask. “You’re gonna have a bad time, yes?”

Rose smiled at the man. Those that knew who she was would recognize the smile, her father had one just like it. There was no mirth there to echo that which the man was showing. Her eye was dark and calculating. “Boney, you wouldn’t even know how to give a girl like me a bad time. You’re small potatoes, as far as I’m concerned.”

Dropping the box of paperwork she dove forward, pulling out her remaining katana as she rolled across the floor. As she got within reach of the hooded figure, she drew her blade up, aiming it right where most folk kept the more sensitive parts of their anatomy. Surprisingly the blow landed true, and with a groaned out “Mierda!” the man fell back and away from Rose’s blade.

Then the bastard dispersed into smoke again, shifting right past the mercenary to reform by the file box she’d left behind. A simple snap from a pocket lighter set its contents ablaze, and finally he turned back to gaze at her, blood still poured from the wound, though not as fast as it should have.

Rose growled low in her throat, furious with the interfering asshole. “Look here you piece of shit Hallowe’en store reject, you’ve reached about the end of my fucking patience. I don’t know what kind of weird ass magic superpowers you’ve got running through you that allow you to pop around like a gods-damned ghost, but if you think that somehow gives you the upper hand here..."

She didn't finish the sentence, instead springing into action, taking another swing at the fucker, this time aiming right for where his helmet met his jacket, leaving a chink in that fucking unrelenting black he was all decked out in. She followed through with the move, rolling past him and springing up, grabbing her shirt with one hand and pulling it up and over her head, settling it over the flaming box. The armored piece was designed to be flame resistant, and she was grateful as she muffled the fire in an attempt to put it out.

“Un-!” Was about all that escaped as the man got caught off guard, though he swiveled around with the motion and reached out to steady himself against the table. An uneasy silence fell and the masked figure didn’t retaliate, rather a single gauntlet faced Rose palm out. “Wait. You may have everything in that box, save for one document. If your curiosity won’t allow for that deal, I’m prepared to do away with this whole facility to contain the information in my interest. How does that sound, bruja?”

Witch was hardly the worst thing Rose had ever been called. In fact, it might just be the most polite thing an opponent had ever called her mid battle. She paused, wiping the length of her blade along her pant leg as she stood there in her bra, sizing up the sincerity of the man in the skull mask. "Tell you what, Ghostface, you have a deal, but if for one second it looks like you're just fucking with me, then there is nowhere on this earth you can hide. A large portion of my job is finding douchebags that don't want to be found."

She sheathed her blade and grabbed her shirt off the smoldering box of papers, using her gloved hands to carefully quell the embers on the edges of the papers. She used more effusive hand gestures than necessary, tucking a few papers into her gloves as she did so. Whatever happened, she wasn't going home empty handed, not after everything she had been through to get here in the first place. "Whatever secrets you're trying to keep, buddy, I sure hope they're worth it. Some bad shit went down here, and somebody should have to pay for it."

“Most of what you’ve already seen are dark secrets hidden by veritable angels, foolish ones but still with virtue.” Heavy breathing rasped through the pale mask, as the man slowly pulled a folder out of the box and immediately set it alight, away from everything else. A moment or two passed in cold silence until it was nothing but ashes. The minutes felt like hours, but Rose held still, kept her place, not wanting to provoke him just yet. “This was worse than that, something that would shame the devil himself. I clearly couldn’t keep it secret, so destruction is the only option. I can’t allow another mistake of its kind made.”

Rose frowned, watching the behaviour of the masked man as cautiously as if he was another predator, an unknown one. Now that he had eliminated the file that he was so focused on, would he leave the rest, or would she be forced to fight him again. He had skills that she couldn't hope to counteract, and that made her edgy, anxious. The nervousness made her angry. She hated being less than anyone else in the room, and with his strange ability to discorporate, seemingly at will...

"You got rid of what you wanted," Rose snapped, taking an aggressive step forward. "I care little for your angels and demons, all I want is the data. Are we finished here?" Her fingers curled as if they already held the box, but her limited precognition was like a low warning buzz in the back of her head, making her loathe to actually step forward and enter his reach a second time. "Now step away from the box, Sans."


End file.
